Chapter 6: From Man to Woman

Li Chuzhe deliberately arched his arm, making a gesture that invited Tang Yan to lean on him. But Tang Yan misread it—thinking Li Chuzhe felt cramped—and subtly shifted sideways.

Li Chuzhe frowned, glancing at Tang Yan, who was completely oblivious, smiling at him with innocent sweetness. “I’ll go wait over there first,” he said, then walked off on his own toward the man in the tuxedo.

Li Chuzhe’s face tightened visibly, anger simmering beneath the surface. The older executives standing nearby noticed instantly. All of them stayed silent, afraid to speak first.

“That guy? That’s my wife,” Li Chuzhe said with a forced smile, his voice smooth but edged with danger—like a lion about to roar.

The scheming old foxes, hearing the news that the young master was already married, quietly excused themselves, each taking their daughters away with disappointed sighs.

“Li Chuzhe.” A familiar voice called from behind.

It was Mo Boyu—the notorious playboy, known for his charm and reckless flirtations. He had his younger sister, Mo Yao, by his side. She wore a sweet, delicate outfit that matched her girlish charm perfectly, radiating an irresistible mix of innocence and allure—exactly the kind of girl that made any man want to protect her.

Mo Yao stepped forward, bashfully lowering her head. “Good evening, Brother Li.”

She glanced around furtively, noticing that Li Chuzhe wasn’t accompanied by a date.

“Brother Li… you didn’t bring a lady?” she thought hopefully—maybe she could be the one.

Li Chuzhe turned slightly to the side, chin lifting just enough to indicate someone behind him. “My wife is over there. Come on, let me introduce you.”

Mo Yao’s heart sank. She turned to look—and froze.

The woman beside Li Chuzhe was taller than her, built like a runway model, flawless features glowing with ethereal purity. Yet there was something sharp in her eyes, a quiet dominance that cut through the softness. She looked like a fairy—but one who wouldn’t hesitate to crush anyone who crossed her.

One glance was all it took. Mo Yao accepted defeat.

“Brother…” she tugged on Mo Boyu’s sleeve, voice small. No response.

Then she looked up again—and nearly gasped.

Her own brother, Mo Boyu, was utterly transfixed. His gaze was locked onto Tang Yan, as if he’d just found his soulmate. He stood there, dazed, lost in her presence, unable to tear his eyes away.

“Brother!” Mo Yao snapped, tugging harder.

Mo Boyu blinked, coming back to reality with a sheepish grin. “Huh? What is it, Yao Yao?”

Tang Yan was now walking beside Li Chuzhe, approaching the siblings.

“These are the Mo family—Mo Yao and Mo Boyu,” Li Chuzhe said simply. “This is my wife, Tang Yan.”

Mo Yao nodded politely. Mo Boyu’s pale cheeks flushed slightly, his voice awkward and shy. “Ms. Tang, nice to meet you.”

He sounded exactly like a teenager experiencing love for the first time. Li Chuzhe’s expression darkened. He shot Mo Boyu a cold glare before stepping forward and gently taking Tang Yan’s arm.

“You said you weren’t feeling well earlier. Let me take you for a walk in the garden.”

Without waiting for a reply, Li Chuzhe pulled Tang Yan away from the Mo siblings. Tang Yan didn’t question it—her mind was already racing with thoughts of how to finally escape his attention.

When they reached the back garden, Tang Yan’s focus was nowhere near the quiet beauty around her. Her eyes kept darting toward the main hall. Li Chuzhe noticed immediately. His jaw clenched tighter, his tone sharpening with barely suppressed fury.

“You really want to go back in, don’t you?”

Tang Yan stared at him, confused. “What’s wrong? We came to this party to be *in* the ballroom, right? And I never actually said I was sick. Why rush to leave? Talking to them would’ve been fine.”

In her mind, those two siblings seemed close to Li Chuzhe. Maybe they could distract him long enough for her to make a move.

Li Chuzhe’s jaw locked. His brows knitted together. “You’re saying… you’d rather stay with *them*?”

“They’re friendly. They know you well. Why not?” Tang Yan replied, dead serious.

For a moment, Li Chuzhe couldn’t speak. A heavy weight pressed down on his chest. He couldn’t breathe.

Just then, the man in the tuxedo entered the garden. Tang Yan spotted him instantly.

The man gave her a subtle nod. She responded with a quick, almost imperceptible twitch—then clutched her stomach.

“Li Chuzhe… I think I’m really not feeling well. Can we find a quiet room so I can rest?”

Her face twisted in pain—perfectly convincing.

Li Chuzhe sprang into action, calling for staff immediately. Tang Yan was quickly led to a secluded room, tucked away from prying eyes. He even started to summon his private doctor—until Tang Yan firmly stopped him, insisting she was fine.

“Li Chuzhe… I’m thirsty. Could you get me a glass of water?”

Her face was pale now, almost ghostly.

“Sure. Just rest a minute,” he said, rising to leave.

The second he stepped out, a figure slipped through the window.

Tang Yan shot upright. “Where’s the gear?”

“All set,” the newcomer whispered. “Change fast. The cameras here are under our control. You have thirty minutes—no more.”

The man peeled off his mask—revealing a woman underneath.

Her body and bone structure were nearly identical to Tang Yan’s. Tang Yan quickly changed into a tight-fitting agent suit, snug and unobtrusive. Meanwhile, the woman donned Tang Yan’s clothes and appearance, lying down on the couch just as she had.

As Tang Yan climbed over the wall, Li Chuzhe returned, holding a glass of water.

“Here you go, Tang Yan.”

The woman reached out, accepting the cup with delicate grace, sipping slowly.

Li Chuzhe narrowed his eyes slightly—as if studying her. Then, just as suddenly, he relaxed.

Meanwhile, Tang Yan had already secured the correct route. Moving along the shadowed edges of the walls, she slipped unseen into the hidden vault where the evidence files were stored.

The chamber was pitch-black, filled with infrared sensors. In that tiny space, she spotted dozens of trap switches—hidden, deadly.

“Yangzhao,” a voice crackled in her earpiece. “Behind a book on the top shelf of the bookcase—there’s a tiny switch. Press it. A drawer will slide out. Inside is what we need. Be careful—don’t trigger the alarm.”

“Got it.”

Tang Yan silenced the comms, then put on her specialized glasses.

Amidst the web of invisible beams, she moved like a shadow—graceful, precise. With gloves on, she carefully pulled out the most likely books—dusty, yellowed, indistinguishable from one another.